


The Ones Who Fall Through

by Feral_Female



Category: Torchwood
Genre: AU, Aliens, Anal Sex, Gay Romance, M/M, Time Agents, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-09 05:33:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10405020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feral_Female/pseuds/Feral_Female
Summary: Out of every dark moment a glimmer of light emerges. For our beloved factotum that glimmer came in the form of a long-awaited confession from his dashing Captain. After the agony of having their dreams and secret desires abused by junkie aliens, Ianto and Jack face a fresh dawn, one that seems just a bit brighter than most.Then the ex-boyfriend/ partner shows up wearing a smirk, a spiffy red jacket, and a wrist strap that actually works as it should.  Captain John Hart has a tale to tell—one about a missing Time Agent who may need his and Jack’s help. Needless to say, the rosy morning quickly loses it glow.This story picks up immediately after “Hounds & Hollyhocks”. I’ll be posting on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.This tale – as all of mine do - takes place mainly before CoE although you might pick up some nods to things that occurred in the first three episodes of “Children of Earth”. There may also be a few small liberties taken from time to time with references to the show and its timelines.





	1. The Ones Who Fall Through - Chapter One - We Need Better Locks

**The Ones Who Fall Through**

**Chapter One**

**We Need Better Locks**

**Ianto**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

 

Did you know the human spinal column is made up of thirty-three bones? I’d picked that factoid up somewhere. It was just one of those random things that stays in my head. A trivial fly, as it were, stuck to the flypaper of my mind.  That nugget of biology was one of two things lazily swimming around as I ran a finger up and down the middle of Jack’s back. He’d passed out an hour ago, head on my chest and muscular leg draped over mine. Sleep had eluded me. I watched the walls of my bedchamber grew pink and red with dawn’s approach touching each bump of my lover’s spine. So yes, bones in the spine and Jack’s confession about loving me had kept me from sleep. Foolish, I know.

Yet those words tumbling from him were everything. Had I suspected that he cared that deeply? One day yes and the next no. Suspicions though are just that. Inklings. Mild suppositions or impressions. A man needed a bit more than intuition or a feeling. This man did anyway. Which is why I had waited and waited and bloody _waited_ for him to get to where I had arrived months ago. Jesus, it had taken the man ages to battle through his fears to utter three tiny words. I’d began to think I’d be in my dotage before he’d ever admit to caring for me that deeply. But he surprised me last night. Jack is good at that. It’s one of the appealing things about him. He’s full of surprises. Many pleasant but just as many not.

Knowing my thoughts were too scattered for sleep, I closed my eyes, inhaled as much Jack into my lungs as they would hold, pressed a kiss to his tousled hair, and then slipped out from under him. He tossed an arm over my pillow, grumbled, and fell right back to snoring lightly. I needed coffee and the loo, not necessarily in that order. Stepping into a clean pair of sleep pants I then yawned and headed to the toilet. As I shuffled to the bathroom I could smell the aroma of coffee on the air. Huh. That was odd. Perhaps the neighbor had their windows open and the smell had wafted in. Odd but possible, I supposed.

The bathroom visit went quickly. As I washed up I dared to glance in the mirror. It was weird to see myself looking so haggard but feeling so utterly amazing inside. Being loved in return by someone you adored did incredible things for you. Hopefully the buzz of Jack’s words would be enough to carry me through the day. I’d hate to fall asleep in my lunch. The need to brew some of my delicious coffee beckoned. I walked up the short hall, scratching my chest and yawning widely as I stepped into the living room.

“Morning,” a man sitting on my sofa reading my newspaper called. I yelped in shock. Captain John Hart turned the front page of the entertainment section and then threw me a fast over-the-shoulder look. All the fluffy romantic feelings went up in smoke. “Well, look at you, Eye Candy. You’ve been working out. Those abs are all sorts of yummy.”

“What the _hell_ are you doing in my flat? Give me that!” I stormed over to the couch and yanked the paper out of his hands. “Take your damn boots off the table and get out!”

“God, you are _such_ a nag. How does Jack put up with it? Is he here by the way?” John enquired as his stupid boots hit the floor. He threw a snobby look at the apartment.

“Yes, he’s here. In my bed.” I rolled the paper up then flung it to the coffee table.

“Oh dear, was that possessiveness I heard? Tsk, tsk, tsk. You’d best get that green-eyed monster under control. You know how Jack hates clingy boy toys.” The man in the garish red Napoleonic era jacket pushed to his feet. I wanted nothing more than to punch him in the throat.

“I’ll go get him. You just stand here and don’t touch one thing of mine.”

“Jack included?”

“I’m not doing this with you.”

“What? Conversing? I’ve been told I have an incredible vocabulary.”

I wished I had my gun. Then I could put a slug into this cocky bastard. I stepped up and looked down on the Time Agent. Being tall is a lark at times. We were chest to chest. John didn’t back down but I hadn’t thought that he would even with my height advantage. Sure, it was only three inches or so but a man can do quite a lot with three extra inches. Dear God, I was starting to sound like Jack. Or worse yet, John Hart.

“We’re not going to verbally spar over Jack. He’s made his choice obviously,” I coolly said.

“Oh, yes, obviously.”

I walked away as he made some sarcastic comment about Jack and his big wrist strap. The sun was creeping into our bedroom. I ripped the pillow out from under Jack’s head. He growled dangerously. Then I hit him over the back of the head as hard as I could with the pillow in my hand. That got his fine ass up and out of bed.

“What the living hell, Ianto?” Jack yelled as the sun warmed his naked body. Damn he looked delicious.

“Tally-ho, Jack! Time for tea and strumpets. Oops! I meant crumpets.”

Jack’s anger turned to shock. I gestured at the doorway as he gaped like a dullard. “Your ‘ex-partner’ dropped by. I’m replacing the locks first thing tomorrow.”

“Changing the locks won’t keep me out, Eye Candy,” John shouted. “Oh, and I made coffee.”

“No, he did not,” I sputtered and left Jack standing there looking stupefied. John was leafing through the bills on the side table when I blew into the living room.

“Your mobile bill is late.” He held up an envelope. I walked over, ripped the bill from his hand, and then proceeded into the kitchen to tend to his coffee. It had better be rancid. Even if it weren’t it was getting poured down the drain. I dumped before tasting then made a new pot. Like hell would I sit here drinking that shitter’s coffee. Knowing him it had probably been poisoned in some way. When I exited the kitchen a few moments later, both hands holding mugs of my freshly brewed, Jack was just entering the living room.

John stood across the room, still nosing through my bills. He acted as if he didn’t know Jack had entered the room but that was nonsense. Everyone knows when Jack Harkness walks into a room. The man sucks all the air out. Or maybe that was just his effect on me.

“Where the hell is Gray!?” Jack roared and then jumped on the man in the scarlet jacket. John was obviously not expecting a right hook to the face. Neither was I to be honest. The side table caught the brunt of the melee, shattering under the combined weight of Jack and John.

I acted on instinct, tossing the mugs of coffee to the floor and diving into the scrap, partly to save Jack from being shot as Hart now had a gun freed, and partly because I really didn’t want to have to redecorate my flat. I wrapped my arms around Jack’s middle and pulled. He clawed and swung fists the entire time he was slowly dragged across the room.

“For God sake, at least put some pants on,” I huffed when I got him far enough from Hart to release him.

“He’s seen my ass before,” Jack snarled then made another lunge. I caught him this time and held him back. John got to his boots, his gun pointed at Jack. “Where is Gray? You motherfucker, you tell me where he is!”

John rotated his jaw then ran the back of his hand over a trickle of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. Keeping Jack restrained was difficult. The man was incensed and fueled by anger. Hell, Jack was a handful when he _wasn’t_ in a murderous rage.

“Hello to you as well, Jack.” John smirked then ran his tongue over the front of his teeth.

“Where is he? I swear to God that I will rip your cold black heart out with my bare fucking hands if you don’t tell me where he is.”

“He’s quite serious,” I grunted then gave Jack a shove that plastered his bare back to the wall. The neighbors must be thrilled to be hearing this at a quarter past five in the morning. I put both hands into the middle of Jack’s heaving chest. His eyes were terrifying. “I’d tell him where this Gray person is,” I shouted back at Hart.

“You mean he still hasn’t told you who Gray is? Oh, dear me, Eye Candy. He told me about him the first week we were stuck in that loop.”

“Fuck off,” I snarled then put everything I had into keeping Jack flat to the wall. I heard Hart chuckle. The bastard. He got under my skin _so_ easily.

“I’m not sure where Gray is,” John stated casually. Jack mildly freaked out. We ended up with my arms linked around his midsection, my bare feet digging for traction.

“You said you’d found him!” Jack bellowed, his fingers digging into my arm in an attempt to wrest free.

“Did I? Well, I meant I think I _might_ have found a clue to his whereabouts.”

“You fucker,” Jack growled low and dangerous. I tightened my hold and shoved with all my might. “You get out. Get out of this flat right now. Ianto can’t hold me back forever and when I get loose I’ll kill you as slowly as I can.”

I heard Hart yawn. My lover and I had another small skirmish.

“Jack, enough. Go get some bloody pants on. There will be no killing in my flat. The landlady would suffer apoplexy.”

“Yes, Jack, _do_ cover that sinful ass of yours. I have something to tell you,” John said. “Something about Geirr Holmberg.”

Jack stopped trying to dislocate my shoulder. After a moment with no lurching or lunging I slowly released my lover, but did keep a hand on his chest just in case.

“What about him?” Jack gruffly enquired.

“Get dressed and I’ll tell you all I know,” John said while holstering his gun.

Jack pushed me away and thundered back to the bedroom. I went into the kitchen and came out with a wet cleaning cloth and some carpet cleaning foam. Hart stood over me watching me scrub the stains out of the carpet as he read over my monthly bills, his lip swelling quickly I hoped. After the carpet was tidied, I picked up the mugs and took them to the sink. I met Jack coming into the living room with two new cups of coffee. I handed him one. He’d pulled on a pair of dark blue trousers and a white shirt that hung unbuttoned off his broad shoulders.

“You have two minutes to tell me about Geirr,” Jack icily said as his fingers wrapped around the mug in his left hand. “Then you tell me what you know about where Gray is. And then, after you tell me that you get the fuck out of my life and never darken my doorway again.”

“Jack, that’s no way to be,” John countered, flipping the electric bill back to the table. “Surely you don’t mean that. Look at me. I’m stunning, aren’t I, Eye Candy?”

In all honesty, the man _was_ wickedly attractive. Cocksure, muscular, and treacherous he had a sensual mouth, was dark-haired, blue-eyed, and filled with secrets. His holsters hung low on his hips giving him the look and feel of a gunslinger. Peril oozed out of his pores. Just my type. His attire more suited a Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band tribute band, but that flair for dressing to attract attention could be a Time Agent quirk. If I knew what a Time Agent truly _was_ , of course, which I didn’t.

“Leave Ianto out of this. I meant every word of it now start talking,” Jack snapped, his coffee untouched in his hand. I stood at his side, sipping, glowering, and listening.

“You used to be lots more fun. I think this dismal planet and its boring people…” Hart threw a look at me, “... are sucking the joy out of you.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Your two minutes are racing by. Get to the point of this damn visit.”

“I wanted to show you this.” He reached downward. Jack pulled his Webley from the back of his trousers smoothly and quickly. John’s hand froze. “Seriously, Jack? If I wanted to shoot you I would have crept into the bedroom while you and the hot tea boy were spooning and put a bullet into your heads.”

“He has a point,” I said. Jack seemed unconvinced.

“No sudden moves,” Jack growled. John huffed then slowly slipped his hand into the front pocket of his worn black denims. He extracted a small trinket no bigger than the bobbin for a sewing machine, lifting it up to the sunlight held between his thumb and forefinger. “Recognize what this is, Jack?”

“Where did you find that?” Jack asked, his gun dropping down to hang by his thigh. I stared at the tiny silver bob in confusion.

“In a small curio shop on the western banks of Alatax Eleven.” John tossed the tiny round part to me. I caught it and rolled it around in my palm.

“Not to sound stupid, but what is this?” I asked after studying it for a full moment.

“It’s a time path reset switch,” Jack informed me. “They’re one of the vital components of a vortex manipulator. It allows the person teleporting to make minute adjustments to the chosen projection point of their selected time path.”

“Oh, of course. I recognize it now,” I muttered as I passed the switch to Jack.

Both men from the future gave me looks. One was bitterly condescending, the other soft and amused.

“We both know that a Time Agent never allows any part of our manipulator to be sold off.” John said. Jack nodded in silence. “One of the remaining Time Agents is either in grave danger or dead. We need to go find out who it is and retrieve what’s left of their wrist strap if they’ve met a bad end.” Jack stood there with his teeth in his mouth. “Jack, we worked with these people. Loved them. There are only seven of us left. Maybe less now.”

“You don’t know if this is Geirr’s though,” Jack mumbled, his mind appearing to be far away.

“No, I don’t, but I knew his name would be one that would spur you to action. We three were quite close for a long, long time,” John cajoled.

“I have commitments here.” Jack tossed the tiny silver switch back to John. “I can’t just pick up and leave.”

John gaped at Jack as if he had just spoken in ancient Sumerian. “Have you really gotten so bloody gentrified that you’d leave one of our brothers or sisters to rot in a cell somewhere or die a slow, agonizing death just to… ah, I see what it is now. You don’t want to leave Eye Candy behind and spend time with me because it will make him sad and feel insecure. Are you two in a tender little developmental phase of your relationship? It’s so sickeningly sweet. Excuse me while I go wretch.” He stalked out of the flat making sure to slam the door in his wake.

“At least he used the door,” Jack commented flatly then turned to walk into the kitchen.

“Jack, you have to go with him,” I said to his back.

He skidded to a halt and spun to look at me. “You want me to go traipsing through time alone with my ex-partner to search for another ex-partner that I was also involved with?’

“I never said anything about you going alone. I’m coming with you.” I bit back making a snarky comment about yet _another_ love in his past.

He folded his arms over his chest. “Reason being?”

“He’s not to be trusted.”

“And I am?”

“Yes. What kind of relationship will we have if we don’t start learning to trust each other?” He tipped his head to the side. “Jack, this has nothing to do with insecurity and everything to do with _your_ security. That man is a serpent.” I motioned to the front door. “The last time he showed up he nearly killed us all.”

“You’re not a _little_ bit jealous?” One expressive eyebrow jumped up his forehead.

“Less than one percent jealous and ninety-nine plus percent concerned.”

He took me by the back of the neck and tugged me in for a wet, sweeping kiss. “I hate that he shows up the day after…after that moment when we – when I…that moment when things changed between us. Changed for the better, of course. Oh, _my God_ , would you please make me stop talking out my ass?”

I smiled feebly at his awkwardness. “Life has ghastly timing.”

His fingers were strong and firm on my neck. “My feelings haven’t changed. Keep that in mind when he’s yanking your chain. I’m here with you. This is where I want to be.”

“I know. Shall I go pack us an overnighter?”

Jack exhaled with resolution. “Go ahead. I’ll call the others and tell them that we’re taking a few days’ leave.”

The front door flew open and Hart stomped in. “Are we _really_ bringing Eye Candy?”

“We’re a package deal.” I took a loud, smug sip of coffee. _My_ coffee. The poison-free brand Jack and I enjoyed. And for one brief second in time John Hart had no caustic reply falling out of his mouth. It was incredible but sadly short lived.

“We’ll go with you to figure out which one of our fellow agents is in trouble. When we get back, you are going to tell me what you know about where Gray is. That’s the deal. You want me you get Ianto too,” Jack stated.

“Right, yes, you’re a ‘package deal’. Fine, I’ll play along with this darling little domestic serial you two are starring in. Eye Candy can come along.” John sauntered into the kitchen as if he owned the place. I gave Jack a look. “Oh yuck. This coffee is weak and pale not unlike the man who made it. Seems a coffee boy would at least know how to make a good pot of coffee.”

Jack had to hold me back.

 

 

 

**To be continued…**


	2. The Ones Who Fall Through - Chapter Two - Two Time Agents Walk Into a Bar...

**The Ones Who Fall Through**

**Chapter Two**

**Two Time Agents Walk into a Bar…**

**Jack**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

“No, the SUV will be there for your use, Owen. Hopefully this will just be a short jump. Where are we jumping?” I threw a look at Ianto tossing clothes into an old cloth duffel bag. He shrugged. “There’s no set point since we’re tracking a person. Yes, we will be incredibly careful. Yes, I know John Hart is a twisted prick. Yes, we’re taking weapons and lots of ammo.” Ianto held up several clips for his gun while wearing a rather malicious smile. Into the bag the clips went to snuggle up with a couple of boxes of .38 Smith & Wesson’s for my Webley. “Ammo _is_ good. If you get into something the three of you can’t handle call Martha Jones for back-up.”

Ianto zipped the duffle and hoisted it up onto his shoulder. His hair was still slept-in and his cheeks sported the perfect amount of stubble. If we had an thirty extra minutes and John Hart wasn’t pacing around the living room making snide comments about the furniture, I’d jack Ianto up against the nearest wall and lose myself in him. Maybe a good roll would purge my soul of all the anger and agony churning up my guts.

“Jack.”

I blinked at my name being called by Ianto and Owen simultaneously. “We’ll be in touch,” I said to Owen then ended the call. Ianto, on the other hand, couldn’t be so easily cut off. “I know we need to talk about Gray and probably Geirr and we will, as soon as we get two minutes of privacy.”

“Whoever chose this carpeting needs taken out at dawn and stabbed.” John’s sardonic voice wafted into the bedroom. “Preferably with a very dull knife…maybe a melon baller would be better. Yes, taken out at dawn and balled to death. Oh my, that can be taken a few different ways wouldn’t you say, Eye Candy?”

“If I kill him on an alien planet would that still be considered murder here on Earth?” Ianto asked quite seriously.

“Not in my book.”

“Good. Always nice to have your accomplice on the same page.”

“I’m so touched.” John leaned around the bedroom door. “Nothing says love and affection like planning a person’s death. They taught us that in murder rehab.”

Ianto opened his mouth to question but I waved off the query and turned to look at Hart. “We’re ready to go.”

“You never used to be in such a hurry to leave the bedroom of a lover. Could the coffee boy not be scratching your randy itches properly?” John waited and when neither Ianto or I rose to the bait he huffed, stepped into the bedroom, gave it a disapproving look, and then flipped the covering of his wrist strap. “My bed was wider.”

“But mine’s longer and cleaner,” Ianto countered. I snorted. John gave Ianto a withering look.

“What a clever little tea boy. No wonder you’re smitten, Jack. Gather round.”

I put a hand out in front of Ianto when he took a step. “I need to know where we’re going before we leave. Send me the coordinates you’ve just fed into your manipulator.”

“You know your lack of trust wounds me, Jack Harkness.” John sent me the information I had asked for to my wrist strap. I glanced at where we were headed and then leveled a cold look at my ex-partner.

“Let me guess, you think Dorium might know something.”

“He’s always got his fat little blue fingers into anything on the black market. A Time Agent’s wrist strap would fetch him a nice purse,” John said and I had to agree. It had been a long time since I’d visited the Maldovarium.

I turned to look at Ianto over my shoulder. “Stay close, don’t talk to anyone, and keep an eye out for slavers.”

“Eye Candy would bring in a fat sum on the block. What with those pretty blue eyes, pouty lips, and tight ass… although his propensity for whining and jealous fits might bring his value down a bit.” John gave Ianto a wink.

“I hate you,” Ianto mumbled as he took my hand. We stepped closer to John who was grinning like a jackass eating briars.

“Snuggle in close boys. Teleporting three is a little dicey.” The sensation of the rifts power enveloping us was familiar and sorely missed. Ianto inhaled sharply. A golden doorway of pure energy opened and enveloped us, my grip on Ianto tight to ensure he didn’t get left behind or step off to the side and find himself floating through space. Teleporting wasn’t as simple as it looked. As we stepped into the Maldovarium I could hear The Doctor in my mind pitching a fine bitch about Time Agents skipping through time all willy-nilly.

“Is it normal to feel like my stomach has dropped into my ankles?” Ianto asked then fell sideways into a wall. The patrons inside the dark bar paid him little heed. I could feel the discomfort of a triple teleport myself, but I swallowed a few times and the dull ache and nausea went away.

“This is the reason we had that pact about virgins,” John snapped, jerked a hand at Ianto kissing the wall, and stalked to the bar.

“I’m sorry, but what did he just say?” Ianto asked as I righted him.

“People with no experience teleporting,” I explained, my sight on Hart bellying up to the bar as I steadied my lover.

“Ah.”

“Give your system a moment to acclimate. It’s a gradual acceptance of mind and body to a new place in time and the universe.” I patted his arm, my attention still on John chatting up a barkeep with red skin and long ears like a Bassett hound. “Think of it like jet lag on steroids.”

“It’s passing,” Ianto said, his voice a bit stronger now. John stalked over, gave Ianto an eye roll, and folded his arms over his chest. “Oh, nope, it’s back.”

“Dorium will be here shortly. Let’s take a seat and have a drink while we wait.”

We pushed through a waterfall of beads suspended from the ceiling. Hanging lanterns gave the private table a touch of mystery. Ianto dropped into the nearest chair, placed his forearms on the sticky table, and rested his forehead on his arms. John sat down on one side of my boyfriend. That word sounded extremely juvenile to me. Lover maybe? Perhaps partner was the best choice. Christ, should it be this hard to decide what term to use?

“Jack, did you ever tell Eye Candy--”

“Ianto,” my partner spat. Hmm, partner made it sound like we were cops who been paired together, like Riggs and Murtaugh or Cagney and Lacey. “Ianto Jones. My name is Ianto Jones _not_ Eye Candy.”

“Right. So, Jack, did you ever tell Eye Candy about that time you, me, and Geirr were on the trail of that mass murderer from Alirium?” John leaned back in his seat, his eyes locked on me.

“Bloody arse,” Ianto grunted before his head dropped back to his arms.

“You can stop right now.” John blinked at me innocently, or as innocently as John Hart could ever look. “I’m tired of you baiting him and I’m _really_ tired of hearing your voice. The only reason that I’m sitting here in this pit of depravity is for Geirr. Any feelings of warmth that I had for you died long ago. Now, sit there and shut up or so help me I will shoot you in the face.”

“Someone hasn’t had his morning glass of sunshine today,” John replied icily. The red-skinned barmaid appeared and deposited a bottle of pale blue alcohol and three glasses on the table. John threw her a small gold nugget. She bit it, rubbed it on her nose, and then dropped it into the pouch worn around her waist. That was all she wore. A leather pouch on a thin golden belt. She had incredible breasts. “You’d think being so sparkly in love would make your mood a bit brighter.”

“My mood was wonderful until I woke up to the news that _you_ were on my planet.” I grabbed the bottle, pulled the cork out with my teeth, spit the cork to the floor, and then took a long pull. Whatever the hootch was inside the oddly-shaped bottle it burned like gasoline when it hit my empty stomach. I tapped Ianto with the bottle. He lifted his head, saw what was in my hand, and made a sour face. I passed it to John who drank half of the fire water down with ease. Ianto gaped at the man on his right.

“Okay,” Ianto murmured and looked from John to me. Raucous laughter erupted from the table behind us. “What exactly _are_ Time Agents?”

The man we were meeting arrived then, saving me from having to try to explain something that would take hours to fully flesh out. John waved a hand at the big, padded chair across from Ianto. Dorium gave us all a long, shady look. The man had not changed much since the last time I’d been in this bar. He was still bald, fat, and dressed in ornate robes. His fingers were covered with ostentatious jeweled rings, and his skin was still as blue as a Bessie Smith song.

“Do they ever make unattractive Time Agents?” Dorium enquired as he lowered his girth into his chair. “Who is this young man? New blood for the Agency? I’d heard they closed down.”

“This is Jack’s latest…fling. He makes coffee and whines a lot,” John threw out, his sight locked with mine. Dorium gave Ianto a look that set my teeth on edge.

I leaned on the table, my elbows resting on the edge. “We’re looking for information about parts from a vortex manipulator. Know anything about that?”

“ _Me_?” Dorium asked with so much innocence it was a wonder little song birds didn’t appear out of nowhere and land on his shoulders to gaze at him adoringly.

“Let’s drop the act, Dorium. Everyone at this table knows that you run far more than just a bar here. I’m in no mood for playacting. Have you heard of any parts from a Time Agent’s wrist strap floating around on the black market? If so, where and when?” My temper was terribly short I openly admit it. My mental state was strained. That’s what happens when you’re used as crack cocaine for aliens, confess your love to the man in your life, wake up to find your demented ex in your home and hop across universes to try to save another ex all before you even have your fucking Cheerios. So, yes, I was a little bearish.

Dorium exhaled dramatically. “I’m only relaying this information because you’re a friend of his.”

“His who?” Ianto asked. Dorium gave him the same look one would give a child for asking a what an adult thought was a stupid question.

“The Doctor, boy.” The blue man returned his attention to me. “I have a rather large respect for him, and therefore for any who have travelled with him.” I inclined my head in thanks. “Word in the market is that several tiny bits and bobs have surfaced in the past week. Needless to say, the demand for it has been high, driving prices to astronomical levels. A space barge and its crew passed through just two days ago, and with it went all of the available parts, sold to the captain of the barge - a Captain Oliver - for quite the tidy sum. That truly is all that I know.”

“Where was the barge headed?” Ianto asked, his teleportation ails seemingly gone.

“To Gidu.”

“Oh, wonderful,” John and I sighed in unison.

“Gidu. Sounds like a rather chipper place,” Ianto remarked with enthusiasm.

 

**To be continued…**

 


	3. The Ones Who Fall Through - Chapter Three - The Beauty of Gidu

**The Ones Who Fall Through**

**Chapter Three**

**The Beauty of Gidu**

**Ianto**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

 

Gidu was _not_ a chipper place. It was as far from chipper as a place could be. I hated Gidu and I had only been on the planet for two hours. The whole of the world was nearly impenetrable jungle blanketed by a pinkish-yellow atmosphere. Gale force winds thick with yellow-tinted rain blew steadily. Our arrival on this miserably humid chunk of hell had been a little rough. John and Jack – our fearless navigators – had miscalculated our teleportational arrival coordinates. Instead of landing on the top of a mountain range that the barge captain called home base, we had dropped like bags of howling cats into a deep lake of pink goo.

There was no swimming in the liquid. It swallowed you instantly. Down you sank to the bottom of this darling pink lake and drowned. Unless you were part space slug. Then you slowly pushed through the glop until you found your boyfriend’s psychopathic ex about to expire and you drug the unconscious feck to the shore. There you worked on said mentally-unbalanced ex until his lungs were free of pink glop and he was breathing.  Then you went _back_ into Lake Slime and fished around until you found your dead boyfriend and you hauled _his_ tasty bum to shore, cleared his lungs, and sat holding his head while glaring at the demented ex until life came back into your boyfriend’s body.

Oh, the fun Jack and I have. My next journal entry should be a real dinger.

“On the plus side the air is breathable,” Jack said, tugging me from my rolling hate-filled diatribe about Gidu, time-travel, and certain men who worked for a defunct Time Agency. I coughed lightly then spit out the pink goo that had come up. Truly, it was tenacious stuff. We were following John who – much like me – was cursing Gidu and those who lived upon it as he hacked through the thick underbrush with his katana. “Oh, and there are monkeys.”

We all stopped walking and hacking to look up into the canopy. Just as Jack had said the trees were filled with monkeys…or things that might be monkeys. They looked to be the size of baboons but had long tails. Each one was yellow. Not a soft, wheat yellow as one would see on a tabby cat. No, these ugly blighters were brilliant yellow like the head of a parrot. Also, they had canines that could clearly be seen from seventy meters below.

“Okay, maybe calling them monkeys was a little forward on my part,” Jack said as the furry alien baboons began screeching at each other, the voracious wind not even strong enough to blow away the ear-splitting screams.

“They’re not going to dance for peanuts, are they?” I asked while wondering how long it would take this pink goo covering my skin to dry. It was like being covered with Astro Glide which, you know, normally would be a rather enjoyable thing because who wants friction?

“Uh, no. No, I do _not_ think they’re going to dance for peanuts,” Jack replied as at least a hundred and fifty yellow primate/marsupial/alien animals began jumping up and down on tree branches. “See, the Doctor was right. A man should always have at least one banana on him at all times.” I ignored that comment. Obviously, Jack was talking rubbish induced by time travel madness. As if the Doctor would be talking silliness about bananas.

“I hate this planet,” John and I said in unison. The monkeys began throwing hard little green fruits that hurt like hell. We retaliated by shooting three monkeys.

“That seems to have angered them slightly,” John commented right before the herd of angry monkeys threw themselves from the trees at us.

“I knew I should have taken my coffee skills to Starbucks,” I said while running and shooting at the pack of highly agitated alien apes chasing us.

“Less whining and more shooting!” John yelled, gun in one hand and katana in the other. He’d shoot and hack all while pushing through vines and fronds. It galled me to have to admit that he was somewhat impressive. Mildly. A little more than a “Meh” on the impressive scale. Oh, who was I kidding? The man was fucking incredible, as was Jack. Both were sleek, fast, and deadly all while looking amazing. I tripped over a root and nearly went to my face. Yep, Ianto Jones totally fit in with the other two in this party.

“John! We need to start going up the mountain. Get off me you little fucker!” Jack bellowed to the left. I’d lost sight of him during the chaos. “Get us out of this jungle!”

“Always so bossy,” I could hear John saying to my immediate right. “The pink glop is still gumming up my wrist strap. Until this shit dries and I can chip it off, we’re on foot gents!” I stumbled along in Hart’s wake, picking off monkey’s as they came into view. Jack exploded out of the undergrowth, his cheek marred by four long scratches that were oozing blood.

“Bullets! I need bullets, Ianto.”

I pulled the overnighter off my shoulder and flung it to him. He stopped to open the bag and dropped into a crouch to find his ammo among our slippery pink clothes. The boxes were slick and difficult to hold onto. I grabbed a couple of clips and stood over Jack as he dumped out bullets and filled the pockets of his coat then his gun. Jack zipped the bag, tossed it back to me, and then stood up. Monkeys appeared from all sides. We stood back to back and killed every single one that came at us.

“Jack! Stop dallying about and come on!” John shouted from ahead. I picked off a big bastard as it sailed through the air at Jack. It dropped dead on his boots.

“Thanks for that.” Jack grabbed my head, kissed me hard, and then shoved me into the measly path that Hart had opened. “Keep moving. There are about a hundred more and they’re _really_ mad now!”

“Damn dirty apes,” I grumbled as I climbed over fallen trees and boulders.

John was indeed taking us up. The terrain began to change quickly, the jungle falling away to be replaced by rocks and dirt decorated by a few scabby trees here and there. Running became climbing. Hart stood above us on a ledge. A thought that he might boot me in the face ran through my mind as I reached for the outcropping he stood on. But he didn’t. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me up to stand beside him. Then he did the same for Jack. The monkeys congregated on the edge of the jungle, pounding the ground in obvious outrage yet unwilling to scale the steep side of the mountain.

“Next time we go to the zoo, let’s skip the primate exhibit,” Jack panted into the wind. It was even stronger now that we were out of the protection of the jungle. It pulled on his coat, snapping it like a flag.

“Agreed,” I huffed, my sight lingering on the alien apes below. “It’s the petting zoo for me from now on.”

“There’s a cave up there just a bit,” John pointed at the side of the mountain. “I say we make for it and catch our breath. Maybe grab some rest and eat while I fiddle with my strap?”

“Okay, an hour for food and rest and then we get moving.” Jack responded curtly. John nodded and turned to begin scaling the dark gray slope. I gave Jack a long look, rearranged the duffel bag on my shoulder, and climbed. The cave was large enough for the three of us to sit down and it blocked the wind and steady rain, that was all the good that could be said about it.

Dropping to my ass felt good, I’ll admit it. Jack settled beside me, our backs to the smooth stone. John sat across from us, his back to the opening of the cave. I shrugged the bag off my shoulder, placed it on my thighs, and unzipped it. Everything inside was slickery with pink goo. The clothes I’d packed were no better than what we had on so I tossed them aside to find the bottles of water and energy bars I’d brought.

We ate in silence, the wind and rain the only sounds. John spoke up after washing down two energy bars with a bottle of warm water.

“Eye Candy looks drowsy. Why don’t you sing him a lullaby and I’ll go stand guard?”

He rose to his boots and walked to the opening of the cave. Jack gave me a look.

“Don’t let him get to you,” he said as he worked on trying to get his hair into something stylish but failing miserably. Guess pink lake goo was the one thing that took the sass out of Jack's hair. “He’s only happy when he’s busting someone’s balls.”

“He’s jealous.”

“Hard to say with him but I’m with the man I want to be with.” Jack stopped fiddling with his hair and let his hands drop to his lap. His sight met mine and I saw the candor in his eyes.

“Tell me about Gray,” I prompted, knowing that if I didn’t open the door on his secret’s vault and shine a light on one of the thousand top secret files stored within he never would.

Jack inhaled deeply, his gaze leaving me to focus on a spot on the rocky wall. He spoke softly. I had to strain to hear the story of that horrible day so far in the future. I hung onto every word, storing each tidbit away. Jack’s pain infused me, his grief, and his guilt. Oh God, the guilt he carried. It hung on the air like a rancid cloud of volcanic ash, choking the man with each shaky breath he took. When he reached the end of the telling, Jack’s shoulders were tight, his jaw set, and his sight still on that smooth stone wall. I imagined he was viewing losing his brother on that wall as if watching an old super 8 film projector. I glanced from Jack working to compose himself to John who stood at the mouth of the cave stiff as a tree.

I had no clue what to say or do but I had to do something. I pushed up from my ass and got to my knees. Jack’s attention finally left the wall of the cave.

“We’ll find him,” I told him then kissed him softly on the mouth. Jack nodded then cleared his throat. I got to my feet, my newest pair of hiking boots squelching with each step I took. Ianto Jones was obviously not meant to own nice hiking boots for longer than a week. Hart never gave me a look as I walked up behind him. Perhaps he was lost in some old memory as well as he worked on his damn wrist strap. Maybe he assumed that I wasn’t a threat. That was stupid. Underestimating someone who loves someone you’re playing games with is inordinately stupid.

I had his guns out of his holsters and pressed to either side of his fat head before he could reach for them.

“Color me surprised,” John tossed out casually while continuing to fiddle with the strap on his wrist. “I guess Eye Candy has balls after all.”

I pressed my chest into his back, pushed the barrels of his guns harder into the base of his skull, and worked at speaking slowly and concisely.

“If we don’t know where Gray is after this, I will kill you. Oh, no, don’t snort or make quips. I am deadly serious. I’ll find whatever is at hand and I will end your life with it. Maybe it will be a gun or that stupid snakeskin katana of yours. Perhaps it will be a rock or the skull of a space monkey. Doesn’t matter. If there’s nothing lying about I will beat you to death with my fists, and trust me, I will revel in watching the life leave your eyes.”

“You love him too much, Ianto Jones.”

“And you’re toying with him. That is a mistake. No one hurts him, understood?” I shoved the guns back into their holsters and left him staring out at the stormy skies of Gidu, his reply to my query not important. I think I got my point across.

 Jack was smiling when I sat back down beside him. “I can’t lie, that made me hard.”

“Pity we can’t put that erection to use, what with me all coated in pink goop.”

“John, we need about thirty minutes of alone time. Jump off that overhang, will you?” Jack shouted as I nestled back into the stone wall and let my eyes close.

Hart replied with something cutting about me probably only needing thirty seconds. Whatever else followed was lost on the winds whipping past our hideaway.

 

**To be continued…**

 


	4. The Ones Who Fall Through - Chapter Four - Lovers Old and New

**The Ones Who Fall Through**

**Chapter Four**

**Lovers Old and New**

**Jack**

 

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

 

Just when you think you know your factotum he goes and does something that knocks you off your blocks. Ianto’s little chat with John had floored me for a couple reasons. One being that Ianto was so amazingly callous and collected while that tête-à-tête took place. He was turning into an icy and lethal agent. I was proud of his growth and yet some part of me kind of missed the goofy, gangly coffee boy he had been.

Growth is natural, of course, as is change. And this newer Ianto Jones turned me on, I cannot lie. Hopefully the soft-spoken, blushing young man he had been would still come out on occasion…like in bed when I introduced some new erotic pleasure for us to try. I’d hate to think I’d trained and honed him into a weapon with no regard for human life. On the other hand, the harder the steel the longer it lasted. A weak Torchwood agent didn’t live long. I should know. I’ve put my share of colleagues into the deep freeze. I certainly did not want to put Ianto there any time soon.

The second reason was simply that he loved me _so_ much. I was not worthy of that kind of affection from him. Someday he’d see that and leave, taking my heart with him.

I pushed to my feet, leaving Ianto to grab a few minutes of rest, chin to chest. There was no sleeping for me. I was too wired. John, it seemed, was running on the same high octane fuel that I was. He threw me a quick look as I stepped up next to him, the wind howling a mere foot in front of us.

“Worried that Eye Candy was getting the drop on you again?” I asked, enjoying the slight mist that rode in on the currents.

“That won’t happen again.”

I said nothing.

“You shouldn’t have brought him, Jack.”

“He can handle himself.”

“No, he really can’t. His adoration of you will get him killed.”

I exhaled slowly through my nose. “You just worry about your life and lovers and leave me to mine.”

A moment passed. John shuffled a bit beside me. I threw him a sideways look, amazed as always by how good-looking the man was. Handsome and slightly deranged. Okay, more than slightly.

“What say we head off and find the captain of the barge without him?” John turned to face me. I shook my head. He frowned. “He’ll only slow us down you know that. He’s not trained for a journey like this. My God, he turns green every time we teleport. Let the delicate little darling grab a nap while you and I take care of business. In and out we go.” He flipped open his wrist strap and waggled a brow. “Come on, Jack. You know it would be fun. Just you and me like the old days.”

“The old days are dead and gone. I’m here because I care about Geirr and my brother. Ianto comes with us. End of discussion. Now feed me the coordinates of this Captain Oliver’s base.”

“You really don’t trust me, do you?”

I laughed aloud at the comment as I studied the coordinates coming into my manipulator. “Not in the least.”

When I double checked that he wasn’t sending us to the swamps of Plovox Ten, I went back to rouse Ianto. He came awake with a start. Five minutes later we were on the summit of the mountain, our backs to a rock wall ten feet tall that surrounded a large complex. Clouds blew around us, rain and wind ripped at our clothes. If I were the captain of a space barge that trafficked illegal things this would be my choice of base.

The weather was wicked enough to send anyone with half a brain back down the mountain. Obviously, we three were lacking smarts. I had to assume that the pink-yellow atmosphere helped keep long range scans from reading the surface of the planet too closely. The oddly colored skies probably were a result of tons of krixen dust spewed into the atmosphere when a meteor impacted the northern side of the planet over two hundred years ago. The high density of such dust would play havoc with low-to-mid range scanners.

John fine-tuned his manipulator as Ianto and I took turns spying at the sprawling complex clinging to the edge of the summit. The facility itself consisted of a long main building with several kickoff additions. Blinking white and yellow lights lined a landing strip on the southern end of the complex. A massive barge sat on the strip, it’s flanks dented and rusty. I’d not seen such an old barge in years. The volatile skies opened then, dumping hail on our heads. Jagged bolts of lightning jumped from pink cloud to yellow cloud. John grabbed my arm. I took hold of Ianto. A glowing door opened and we hurried into it stepping out cautiously, weapons up, senses on high alert.

The inside of the compound reeked of smoke, human waste, and unwashed bodies. We’d stepped into a small room, maybe ten feet by ten feet. One window with thick bars behind us and a stout steel door in front. A form lay on a rickety cot along the wall to my left, the person huddled under a mouse-chewed blanket. If it were male or female was impossible to say. Ianto mumbled something and bumped into me, his body unhappy about the shift in location. I hurried to slide an arm around his waist and steer him to the wall for balance.

“I really am sorry, Jack. I had no choice,” John said. I glanced back in time to see him teleporting out of the cell.

“No, no, no! You fucking _bastard!_ ” I roared, leaving Ianto with his hands resting on the wall. The mad bolt to the door proved fruitless, as I knew it would. It was locked. The window overlooked the side of the mountain. Rain blew in to wet the floor. No getting out that way without dying and that would suck. It always sucked. Beating on the wall seemed like the right thing to do and so I did until Ianto yelled at me to stop.

“Jack, this man needs help.” My rage vented I spun to look at Ianto. He was standing beside the cot, peering down at the person curled tightly into a ball. I took a few steps, my mind spinning like tires in mud, trying to work out what had happened, why it had happened, and what the fuck we were going to do next. Ianto pulled the blanket back from the man’s shoulders. “His breathing is shallow.”

“Step away from him, Ianto,” I said sharply, my tone getting me a confused look from my lover. “He might have some sort of plague that you’ve never been--”

“Jack?” The man on the cot called, kicking at the covers.

“Geirr?” I whispered, the Scandinavian pronouncement - lacking that hard J sound - of my name throwing me back in time like a slingshot. I looked at Ianto. His expression remained neutral. My gaze roamed over the man feebly trying to sit up. He was sallow and weak but still amazingly beautiful with soft, blonde hair to his shoulders and light blue eyes the color of a fjord. His jaw was still rugged and his shoulders wide. Someone had busted his nose since the last time I had seen him, that regal Nordic nose now slightly crooked. It only added to his looks.

“I was hoping you’d not fall for his bullshit like I did,” the Swede coughed as he threw off his blanket. His vortex manipulator was missing from his wrist. Geirr got to his feet and drew me in for a hug. The kiss he gave me after the embrace was just as passionate as they had been so long ago. Ianto coughed discreetly. My arms tightened around him as his knees buckled. I eased the big man back down to the cot. Ianto – dear sweet Ianto – draped the moldy blanket around Geirr’s bowed shoulders. I caressed Ianto with a look. A dot of color rose to his scruffy cheeks. Nice to see that blush was still part of him.

“Can you condense things for me?” I asked Geirr, taking a seat beside him on the cot, worry that it would hold both of us skipping around my mind for a second. Ianto dug into the duffel bag and handed a bottle of water and a granola-filled energy bar to Geirr. My fellow Time Agent shook so strongly he couldn’t get the cap off the water. I opened it for him. Ianto removed the wrapper from the energy bar. “I need to have a basic understanding of what the hell is going on. Why did John lure us here? What’s this Captain Oliver want with us? Is he after the technology that powers our wrist straps? Is Hart working with him?”

“Jack, he’s passed out.” Ianto stated. Geirr slid into me, his head rolling back to expose his Adams apple. Ianto gathered his feet and placed them on the cot after I stood, cradling Geirr’s blond head. I stood studying the man on the cot in silence. The roar of the storm dropped off for a moment and my ears picked up the wail of women and children. Ianto must have heard it at the same time. We both went for the door, rattling it violently then beating on it out of frustration.

“That man is a dead man the next time I see him.” The vow was not idly made. John Hart was going to die and it was going to me who squeezed the life out of him. “What the hell has he gotten us into?”

“I’d be pleased to fill you in, Captain Harkness.” My gaze flew to the small window in the door. On the other side was a smug face, weathered with age, with stark green eyes and bushy red eyebrows. Ianto and I shared a look. “My name is Captain Oliver. If you and your pretty boy are thinking of shooting me or my men, I’d like to inform you that any rash behavior on your part will be met with this.”

Geirr screamed and rolled from the cot, his long, lean body contorting in pain as sparks flew from the tips of his fingers. It was a terrible sight. My hatred for John Hart grew. Ianto and I dropped our weapons to the floor. Geirr whimpered then curled into a fetal position, his fingertips charred. The locks on the door opened and a wiry redheaded man dressed in a patched but pressed 21st century US Naval uniform complete with fleet admiral’s stars on his shoulders entered. He had pulled his long hair back into a ponytail.

“You do realize that your uniform denotes you as an admiral and not a captain?” I pointed out. The redhead smiled. It was not a reassuring smile. “I just thought I’d make mention of that. Hate to see you misrepresenting yourself to your men.”

“Odd words coming from a man claiming to be what he is not. Pot and kettle as they say.” How much had Hart told this man? He had a lyrical, vaguely familiar, accent that I couldn’t place right off. I could feel Ianto staring at me but now was not the time to whip open the vault and rifle through _that_ particular file. “Kick the weapons over and extend your left hand.”

We did as Captain Oliver instructed. What choice did we have? Geirr was in no condition for more of that torture. Four burly men in blue sailor suits rushed in and gathered our weapons, my wrist strap, and the duffle bag. We were then manhandled a bit, our hands jerked upward and held in death grips. Small electronic devices that burrowed into the skin upon contact were placed on our left palm. I assumed that we were now wired for discipline just as Geirr was. Feeling the device slicing open and then wiggling around under the skin was more than a little disconcerting.

“Now that we have you nicely subdued, let me show you around. We’ll have dinner after we tour the pens.” The captain in the admiral’s clothes smiled widely, showing us a gold tooth before he bowed genteelly and walked out of the cell. Ianto and I were shoved out into the corridor. The door to the cell that Geirr was held in was closed and locked. The pleading and begging of people in other cells was much louder now. “Forgive the smell. We’ve not yet figured out how to get the plumbing here to work properly.”

“You’re slavers,” I spat. One of Oliver’s men pushed me along. I bounced off Ianto who quickly caught me. The look I gave the man carrying our duffle bag was dark. “Why did Hart lure us here? What’s your interest in Time Agents?”

“All your questions will be answered at dinner. Now come along, we don’t want the mutton to get cold.”

“Yes, nothing worse than cold mutton,” Ianto mumbled as we passed tiny, grimy fingers wiggling at us from under cell doors.

 

**To be continued…**

 


	5. The Ones Who Fall Through - Chapter Five - One Too Many Captains

**The Ones Who Fall Through**

**Chapter Five**

**One Too Many Captains**

**Ianto**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

 

Touring the compound didn’t take too long, thankfully. Passing by cells filled with children and women begging us to free them made me sick to my stomach. As did the smell of mutton when we were led into an extravagant room that could only be the captain’s quarters. The culture shock was overwhelming. It was like stepping from a concentration camp into the halls of the Taj Mahal. From sewage on the floor and human suffering to tapestries on the walls and dancing girls shaking their hips to a drummer seated on a velvet pillow.

A table large enough to seat twenty sat at the far end of the room. It was bowed with meats and fruits and side dishes. I dug at my left palm, shuddering at the memory of that little device wriggling into my flesh.

“Captain Harkness, please take off that famous coat and make yourself comfortable.” Captain Oliver called over the thumping of the drums and the tinkling of the jeweled belts the reptilian dancing girls wore. “Your boy may sit at your feet.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll leave my coat on. I don’t plan on staying for long,” Jack replied. I nodded with pride and then was overcome with an electrical shock that ran though my body, sending every synapse into overdrive. There was no way to not collapse to my face. “Okay! Stop, stop! I’ll take off the damn coat!” I heard Jack yell.

The pain stopped instantly. I rolled to my stomach, gasping and quaking, my muscles twitching spastically.

“There, the coat’s off,” Jack said as his coat fell on the floor to my left.

“Gather the lad up and take a seat,” I heard our host say. Jack slid his hands under my armpits and eased me to my feet. The room was blurry. I stumbled along at his side, working to get my vision to rights and my shoulders to stop jerking.

“Here, just sit down beside me,” Jack tenderly said. We gently knelt on two fat red pillows, Jack bearing my weight. I blinked at a scaly dancing girl spinning past in Jack’s coat. Captain Oliver sprawled out over a large wooden chair – a throne if you wished – that sat dead center among the pillows covering the rich carpets.

“Please, bring in our other guests. It wouldn’t be polite to feed two and let the others go hungry,” Captain Oliver called to the guards at the door. They relayed the message to others in the corridor.

The dancing girls held no interest. My fried brain was leaping from one stupid thing to another. Jack’s hand on my back felt reassuring. The doors at the other end of the suite opened and Geirr was carried in by two men in sailor suits and dropped to a plush green pillow. John Hart walked in. Jack made a move to stand. I grabbed at his shirt and tugged him back.

“It really hurts. I’d rather not experience it again,” I quietly told him. Knowing Jack as I did, I knew my pain would be the only thing that would keep him seated.

“Welcome Captain Hart!” Oliver roared merrily. John gave us and then the sickly Swede a quick appraisal. “Imagine this! Not two but _three_ Time Agents gracing my hall for dinner. Why, this must be some sort of record. What do you think, Captain Hart? Is this the biggest congregation of Time Agents since the slaughter on Destiny’s fourth moon?”

I had no clue as to what anyone was talking about. Hell, I still had no idea what a Time Agent was. Damn Jack and his need for secrecy.

“I brought them as you demanded. I now respectfully ask that I be allowed to leave. There was no mention of breaking bread with them after they were delivered into your care,” John shouted as the drum beat on. The girls spun and clapped, circling around the man in the short red coat.

“Yes, you did as was agreed on.” Oliver tossed a meaty leg over the arm of his throne. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you into staying for a meal? It will be an engaging dinner, I wager.”

“Thank you, Captain, for your generous offer but, if possible, I’d like the payment I was promised so I can return home with it.” John was tense. His right hand rested casually on his holster. My fingers tightened on Jack every time he moved. Speaking of tense…Jack was so tight I feared if I let go he’d unwind like a spring.

“Very well. Bring him his payment.” Oliver yawned and waved a hand in the air. The dancing girls clapped and cooed. The drummer sat cross-legged wearing a simpering smile. Everyone here was well trained and I could see why. It would only take a jolt or two to keep underlings in line. My nervous system was still jerky so I understood their speed with the beck and call.

The doors at the far end opened again and a thin young woman of perhaps fifteen was led in. She was a diminutive thing with dark hair that hung to her waist. Her clothes hung off her in shreds, exposing a small breast despite her best attempts to keep the torn bodice of her dress over her chest. Her eyes widened when she saw Hart and she ran to him, tears tracking through the filth on her face.

“Amelia,” I heard John murmur into her knotted hair.

“I feared you would never come.” She cried on his shoulder. His gaze met mine and then went to Jack. I looked over and nearly wept myself. All the rage that Jack had been wearing on his face was now gone.

“I told you to leave him behind, Jack. You’re such a stubborn ass. I am sorry… I had no choice,” John told us then left in a shimmer of gold, his payment clutched to his chest. Well. Now didn’t _that_ little scene toss my mental files into the air? Yep. I’d be playing fifty-two pick up for a wee bit. John Hart had someone he cared about that wasn’t Jack Harkness. Go. Figure.

“Let’s feast, shall we? I find myself growing anxious for the dinner conversation.” Oliver shot to his black leather boots and waved a hand at the table. The music grew soft. The dancing girls hustled to stand by the dining table. Jack and I rose. I nodded to indicate I was fine and we both hoisted Geirr to his bare feet. The man was out of it. Drool dripped from the corner of his mouth and he smelled of singed hair. “Agents, please, sit on either side of me. Captain Harkness on my left and Captain Holmberg on my right. Yes, very nice. Captain Harkness, your boy may kneel between us.”

“I’m not kneeling,” I stated with conviction. Captain Oliver smiled then ran a finger over an odd silver band that encircled his wrist. “I’ll sit in a chair between you but I’ll not kneel. I’m not a slave.”

“Oh, you are. You’ve just not grown to understand it yet,” Oliver chuckled. “Bring a seat for this spirited young man. I wish to gaze on him as we eat. His face pleases me.”

“See, you steal the eye of every captain you encounter,” Jack whispered beside my ear. A chair was carried down by a dancing girl and placed between Jack and Oliver. I sat, opened my napkin, and placed the fine cotton cloth over my filthy lap.

Geirr was propped up into a flocked chair on Oliver’s right. A lizard girl with bouncing breasts tied a napkin around his neck. He never moved. I feared he’d suffered brain damage from the recurring electrocutions.

The girls moved around the table removing lids from silver platters and filling tankards with sparkling green liquid. Oliver sat in the largest chair sipping his wine – or whatever it was – while staring at me. Food was spooned onto our plates. Geirr was not able to feed himself so one of the reptilian entertainers began shoving food into his mouth which just fell out and rolled down his chest. Neither Jack or I touched the mountain of food on our china plates. Oliver ate like a man freshly released from prison. He smiled and winked, patted my thigh, and tried to tempt me into taking a bite of mutton or some other odd meat that was far too rare for my liking.

“I just might keep you,” Oliver said after he finished licking the grease from his meal off his fingertips. I said nothing. “You remind me of my last boy, Dalco. So young and fresh. You don’t seem to be soiled _too_ badly by the man who had you beforehand either. What say you, Ianto Jones? Say it and I will have you sent to my bed chamber and prepared for loving. I’ll treat you well and kindly.”

“I’ll pass, thank you.”

“Yes, I feared you would say that. Dalco did as well, at first. Tell me, Captain Harkness, have you told your boy here about your exploits as a Time Agent?” Oliver leaned back in his seat, picking at his teeth with a small pocket knife now. Jack folded his arms over his chest, his secretive expression one that I knew well. “No? Let me see if I can help your memory along. It was the seventh day of the celebration of the harvest on the fourth moon of Destiny…”

I glanced from Oliver to Jack. A small muscle in Jack’s cheek jumped. Ah. So, he _did_ know what Oliver was talking about. That tic might not be seen by others but I knew this man well and intimately.

“Still no recollection? Perhaps I need to lay out a few more tidbits to jog your memory.” Oliver took a sip of his drink. My sight bounced from our host to Jack. “On the seventh day of the harvest celebration, a small pod landed on Destiny’s fourth moon. None who lived in the colony saw the landing as they were gathered in the village center thanking their gods for their good fortune and fine harvest. My brother was there with his wife. Oh, he was a handsome man, much like your Ianto. Young, quick to laugh and possessed of lovely blue eyes. He and his bride had been a wedded couple for four years. She had come to him via me. Slave yes but she had won his heart and her freedom. Such a winsome thing she was but I digress. A young man staggered into the middle of the celebration. Injured and obviously abused, the son of our town elder fell into the arms of his mother and then two Time Agents appeared. Ianto Jones, can you guess who those two Time Agents were?”

My attention was now riveted to Jack. The room was still as a tomb. Not even the tinkle of the dancing girl’s belts was heard.

“The Agency considered him a rogue element,” Jack finally said. “If your brother and his people had only handed him over…”

 

 

**To be continued...**

 

 


	6. The Ones Who Fall Through - Chapter Six - Harvest of Sorrow

**The Ones Who Fall Through**

**Chapter Six**

**Harvest of Sorrow**

**Jack**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

The past. It has a way of rising and taking a sizeable chunk out of your ass. I really hate it when that happens, and this is coming from a man who enjoys a nice rump nibble.

I could see the farmers and children of Destiny’s fourth moon clearly, hear that slight accent, just like the one Oliver had. Each face was etched into my memory and there they would remain for as long as I’d live. That is one _damn_ long time to watch the dead meander through your dreams. Not even Ianto at my side in bed could eradicate them completely.

 I saw them as they had been then. Women and children cowering in fear of the two imposing Time Agents striding into the midst of the celebration. The men of the village wary and tense, threatening us with primitive tools such as pitchforks or ancient handguns for shooting rats in granaries. And amid all those frightened and edgy people was the old woman the town called “shaman” and her nearly dead son. A fugitive from the Agency, the list of his offenses as long as my arm.

“I tried to explain it to them,” I whispered, cleared my throat, and tried again. “I tried to make them understand that the man was suspected of intergalactic transgressions and treason on four planets. If they had just handed him over but they gathered around him. They drew their weapons. _They_ pressed us into action. It was two men against an entire village!”

“Yes, two meager men,” Oliver drawled, his lip rolling into a sneer. “Two helpless men. Pah! You two were Time Agents. Trained in lethality. Cold tempered like rapiers.”

“They fired first.” Those three words cost me dearly. They fell out of me weakly. “They fired at Geirr first.”

“Yes, Gustav took a shot at Captain Holmberg and missed. Yes, such a deadly man my brother was! A man more used to a plow and hoe. He had never _once_ used the rodent pistol at his side until the day the Time Agency and its men arrived on our moon.”

“I begged them to lay down your weapons. All they had to do was hand over the fugitive. I begged them to do that but they refused.” _Begging never really did work well for you, did it, Jack? Think back on all the times you tried to save lives by talking people out of stupid actions. Why? Why the hell do people never listen?_

“And then Captain Holmberg was hit in the back of the head with a pebble fired from a young boy’s slingshot.” Oliver’s thick voice matched the play-by-play taking place in my head.

“Yes, and he reacted as he had been trained to do.”

“He shot my brother and chaos erupted.”

“Yes.” I could feel Ianto’s gaze on me but didn’t dare to look at him. I couldn’t bear to see the disgust in eyes that had just last night looked at me so lovingly. “Chaos.”

“How many people ended up dead that day, Captain Harkness?”

“Five.”

“Five. An old woman, a young man wrongly accused, a woman who ran, and my brother and his wife.”

“Yes. Geirr shot them all.”

“And Captain Holmberg will now sit at my table as a vegetable until he dies a slow miserable death for his sins while you will lose something dear to you just as I did.” His words sent a shiv of fear into my heart. The room filled with men in stupid sailor outfits. Ianto jumped to his feet and I followed. We were both overpowered quickly. Geirr, well, he was beyond worrying about. His dull eyes remained focused on the whole chicken before him, saliva dribbling to his chest.

“No! No, this has nothing to do with Ianto!” I roared as they wrenched us apart. Oliver sat in his chair, a dead smile on his lips. “You want to kill someone, kill me! I was there with Geirr. Put a bullet in my head!”

“Captain Harkness, do you think Captain Hart kept your secrets to himself while I held his sister?” Oliver chuckled and took a sip from his tankard. “The man who cannot die. That is what your former partner told us, so shooting you would bring me little vengeance. Your beloved Ianto, though…”

Ianto was slammed into a far wall, face to the damp stone. He jerked and fought valiantly but the device under his skin sent him to his knees. He was rapidly tugged back to his feet.

“Stop, okay, stop. Fine. You can’t kill me but you can torture me.” I fell to my knees. To beg yes. I would lick Oliver’s grimy boots if it would save Ianto. “Let him go and keep me here. Cut me to bits every day. Stab me. Whip me. Electrocute me. Hell, make shit up! Wouldn’t be the first time I’d been tortured just for shits and giggles!”

“I think not. An eye for an eye or in this case a loved one for a loved one. Tell me how your boy dies. I will let you choose his fate.” Oliver snickered at the look on my face, his fingers flexing and fisting as if he were gauging the size of Ianto’s throat.

“Jack! Jack! Don’t let them throw me in the lake. Please, God above, you know I hate water. Please, Jack, please,” Ianto shouted in terror. Oliver’s eyes lit up. God, my lover was clever.

“Don’t worry,” I told Ianto as Oliver pushed to his feet. “They’re not going to get you anywhere near that lake. I promised I’d keep you safe from water…”

Oliver motioned to the four men holding Ianto to the wall. “Take them to the lake.”

“No, no, no!” Ianto and I both screamed and battled. Oliver stood to the side, his hand resting on the head of one of the kneeling dancing girls. “No, you said I could choose how he died. Not in that lake, please. He’s terrified of drowning. Let me shoot him. Let me do it!”

“And miss seeing the look on your face as he sinks under the surface, his eyes filled with terror and loathing because you could not save him from his most feared fate? No, I think not. It seems fitting. My brother died in fear. Load them into the transport. I’ll be there shortly.” Oliver turned to the girl at his feet, smiled down at her, and then wrapped his fingers around her scaly neck. I was thrown forward, dragged out of the room, pushed and pulled along until the sight of Oliver squeezing the life out of that girl was gone.

I could hear Ianto up ahead, shouting back at me, pleading with me to keep him out of the lake. When we were free and we would be - I just wasn’t sure how yet - I planned to kiss him long and hard and oh-so wetly for being so damn quick on his feet. That is if he would ever let me near him again. How long could a good soul like Ianto Jones go on loving a monster like me?

Past the pens of slaves we were led, their cries shredding my heart. Obviously, Oliver had lost his mind to grief. Grief that I was partly responsible for no matter that I had not pulled the trigger. I’d known the boy Geirr and I had lost during a drunken, sex-filled night of guard duty was probably innocent of the crimes levied against him. Could a bumpkin from a small moon _really_ be in cahoots with the Sontaran’s? Doubtful. He would have been lucky to be able to run the small computer system farmers use to track weather conditions and fertilizer application dates let alone pass along Agency secrets.

But, I turned a blind eye to that strong suspicion. I let him slip through my fingers while I’d been fucking Geirr, and he’d stolen a small shuttle and went home. Stupid of him. He should have piloted that ship to the furthest quadrant of his galaxy but no, he went home to his mother’s bosom. And we followed, tails tucked, eager to fix our huge mistake with the Time Agency. And then it had gone to shit. Geirr had panicked. People had died. And we left the farmers weeping and wailing to move onto the next assignment. Cold and lethal, just as Oliver had said. I often wonder what would have become of me if I had stayed with the Agency. If they had not taken those two years of my memory. If I’d not struck out on my own. If I’d never met the Doctor and seen that I could do something worthwhile with my life.

My feet tangled as we were shoved into the small transport. The tiny barge would offer us no shelter from the storm. My shoulder hit Ianto mid-chest. He grunted as we fell into the railing that ran around the edge of the small ship.

“Would you like to know what’s running around my head?” Ianto asked while we were secured to the rail with lightweight handcuffs that pulsed with soft green energy surges. Like the damn little nanobot ticks under our skin wouldn’t keep us meek and well-behaved, we now needed slave restraints? I nodded, unable to speak for some reason. Maybe it was the fat ball of shame lodged right behind my Adam’s apple. “I keep hearing Oliver Hardy telling Stan Laurel ‘Here’s another nice mess you’ve gotten me into’”.

“My past is going to be the death of you,” I admitted as I looked right into his eyes.

He gave me that sad, sexy smile of his. The one that made me feel hot and cold all at once. “We all have to die from something. Loving you…well, that’ll be worth a little bit of death.”

“I do love you.”

“You better.”

I rested my brow to his.

“Ah, such tender moments. How fitting. Yes, do tell the boy goodbye, Captain Harkness.” Ianto and I broke apart at the sound of Captain Oliver rolling over the small barge. I threw the man a dark glower and saw that he had Geirr with him, leading him along with a leather strap around his neck like a Corgi. The sight infuriated me. Was it necessary to demean the man? Oliver’s damn behavior bot had fried his senses. Was humiliation of a brain-damaged man necessary?  “If we weren’t pressed for time I’d even let you love the lad for old times’ sake but, I have a buyer who’s quite keen on getting her hands on the vortex manipulator I removed from Captain Holmberg’s wrist.”

Oliver tugged Geirr along until they were seated under a large umbrella held over their heads by a sailor. The barge lurched and lifted from the landing bay floor. Ianto and I were nearly tossed over the rail when the small craft careened through the open bay doors. The rain stung any bare skin it touched. Small balls of pink sleet battered us, making us turn our heads to protect our eyes. Brilliant flashes of light lit up the sky. We flew downward quickly. The barge paused for a moment at the edge of the jungle. A flash of red light shone from the bow of the ship. A flat, wide laser hit the trees and cut a wide swath, sending trees toppling and crashing.

We crept through the jungle, the storm rolling overhead. That damn pink lake appeared. I glanced at Ianto. He was soaked through, his hair flat to his head. He threw me a sideways look then a small quirk of a smile. The barge hovered over the lake of thick glop. Ianto was freed from his shackles and forced to the edge of the slave vessel.

“Please, let the two of them have one final kiss,” Oliver shouted over the hum of the barge’s engines and the wind that constantly blew on this shitty planet. The kiss was far too short. I was ripped from Ianto and made to stand at the rail. Oliver sat petting Geirr who was staring at the barge captain’s boots. “Now, throw him over.”

“See you soon,” Ianto mouthed and then was gone. I couldn’t look. Oliver’s laughter was louder than the storm or the engines. I closed my eyes tightly. A strong hand fell to my neck.

“I want you to know that your boy deserved much better than you,” Oliver whispered into my ear.

“Agreed,” I mumbled, the barge banking sharply to carry us quickly away from Ianto. The prayer on my lips was heartfelt even though I knew no deity would be dropping any miracles into my lap.

 

**To be continued…**

 


	7. The Ones Who Fall Through - Chapter Seven - Pink is the New Black

**The Ones Who Fall Through**

**Chapter Seven**

**Pink is the New Black**

**Ianto**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

If I never spend time in a lake filled with pink slop ever again that would be just fine. Clambering out of the glop to fall to my back on the slick, rocky shore, I coughed a few times, pulled out a soaking wet handkerchief to blow my nose on, and stuck my pinkie into my ear in the hopes of…

“No wonder Jack is so besotted with you. Every time I see you you’re lying on your back covered with lubricant,” John Hart said, his voice like fingernails on a chalkboard even though I could only hear well from the ear I had just cleaned out. “Although pink does seem to be your color.”

“Says the man who bragged about being a good wife,” I replied and sat up, my clothes clinging to every square inch of skin I owned. I looked to the left and there he was, propped against a tree as if waiting for the Sunday paper to be delivered.

“You look torn, Eye Candy,” John said as I tried to get to my feet. The slick rocks made it nearly impossible but I managed to skate and fumble to the tree line, and firmer footing. “Trying to decide if you want to punch me for leading Jack here or hug me for coming back to save your firm yet stupid ass?” I punched him. It felt glorious. He never even tried to block the incoming fist. “I guess we’ve answered that question. Fine, I deserved that.” He rolled those deadly eyes to me then tenderly touched the small cut on his cheek as I shook my right hand strongly. “Just as a word of caution, that was two.” He held up a pair of fingers. “There will not be a third.”

“Thank you for coming back,” I said and peeled off my shirt. Wringing it out proved a waste of time but nothing ventured as they say. “For the record, I understand that dilemma you were in. I’d have done the same to save my sister no matter how it would have broken my heart.”

Hart snickered. “Aren’t we quite the pair? We should start a social club. Call it ‘The Men Who Have Loved and Lost Jack Harkness Society’. Our membership would swell into the thousands in a week.”

“I’ve not lost him,” I reminded him while pulling my still sodden shirt back over my head.

“You will, it’s only a matter of time. You’ll get old and loose-skinned and he won’t. Then all that throbbing sexual attraction on his part will wither and die. From there it’s just a hop skip to the weekly visit at the senior center.”

“Then I had best cherish the forty or so years I’ll have with him before that happens.” I turned from Sir Cynical and began marching out of the jungle.

“Such a romantic tea boy you are.” He caught up to me within a moment. “Tell me something.”

“Not in the mood to talk to you anymore.”

“You planning on climbing that miserable mountain again or would you rather hitch a ride? The choice is yours of course, Eye Candy.”

I stopped stalking. Ugh. Fucking smug cockhat. Keeping my eyes straight ahead I reached over to grab at his jacket. He stepped closer, his chest coming flush with mine. That got my gaze from the fallen trees. Hart winked, kissed me quickly right on the mouth, and then stepped into the pulsating fingers of golden rift energy. My gut knotted but stayed in place. Progress. Yippee.

 We emerged inside Oliver’s suite. I ran over to check on the dancing girl lying on the thick area rug but there was nothing to be done for her.

“Leave the dead girl,” Hart spat at me. I took just a moment to close her eyes and gently remove Jack’s coat from her lifeless body. I then stood to face John by the doors. “We’ve got about ten minutes to get the plan in motion.”

“Plan?” I slid my arms into Jack’s coat. The aroma of the man engulfed me. Hart looked at me in utter disgust. Or was it amusement? “I meant your plan?”

“Yes, my plan. Do _you_ have a plan, Dumpling?”

_Well, at least it wasn’t Eye Candy, Ianto. Be grateful for the little things as Mum would say._

“I did but it was a plan for one. Now that you’re here that’s shot to hell.”

His sniggers weren’t needed. John cracked the door open, peeked, and jerked his head back inside. Then he flipped open his wrist strap and brought up a blue hologram of the base that he could rotate simply by rolling his hand through the image.

“We have four groups of henchmen to take out on our way to the pens. Once there, I’ll use my strap to pop the locks and free them. Then we drop down on Captain Oliver and overpower him and his stupidly attired sailors. Really, who dresses up in military garb from the past? It’s so gauche.”

“Do you or Jack _ever_ really listen to what comes out of your mouths?” I asked incredulously. John gave me the oddest look then slipped out into the corridor.  I raced to the table, grabbed a weighty pewter candelabra, and hustled back to find Hart. He gave my weapon a glower then handed me one of his guns.

“This isn’t _Clue_ , Apple Cheeks. We’re not going to clunk Professor Plum on the head with a fucking candlestick.”

“Apple Cheeks?” I placed the candelabra on the floor.

“I got tired of Eye Candy. A man must exercise his vocabulary or else it grows soft. No one wants to use flaccid words.” John nodded at the end of the hall and then whistled as if calling his dog. Both guards leaped out from behind the corner. We shot them both. I never felt a flinch of remorse either. We met little resistance on our way to the holding pens. Hart’s little wrist strap had the doors creaking open in no time. We herded the group of about twenty ahead of us.

“There’s more than I had thought,” I said while jogging into the landing bay. We met two more men in sailor suits there and they also were shot dead on sight. Crates piled in the corners were opened and weapons the likes that I have never seen before were hoisted from the cargo. Children as young as eight were carrying blasters. I wasn’t sure I was happy with that but I’d put that aside and stew over it later. Right now, we needed every human being who could shoot armed. We had numbers on our side but Oliver and his goons had experience. I was sure they’d not hesitate to shoot women or children, as they were only chattel to them. It would be no worse than shooting a cow or sheep who was running amok.

“We’re going to have to steal the shuttles out on the landing pad. I can’t teleport so many people,” John shouted over the gale force winds that pushed rain and hail into the open hangar doors. I nodded as I directed our attack force into position. All the women and children were hidden behind cargo crates on the upper deck and informed to only pop up, take a shot in the general direction of the melee, and then drop back down.

“We’ll keep them busy.” A woman in a torn sleeping gown told us. John checked his wrist strap then barked at Attack Force WAC to take cover. He and I slipped behind a large metallic dome that could have been part of an engine or maybe a water-purification unit. The ship’s engines could be heard now. John and I looked at each other.

“If I get shot dead tell Jack that I’ll always love him,” I said. John made a face that told me what he thought of my demand.

The open-air barge flew into the hanger, water sheeting off its sides as the pilots fiddled with the propulsion units for the landing. I got the nod from Hart and stepped out and opened fire. The crew and Oliver were not in the least prepared for the guerrilla attack. Bullets and bright blue streaks of energy from the blasters filled the hangar. Ricochets were a real concern. The men on the slave transport fired back blindly. The pilot at the stern had his head blown off. That was me. Again, not a lick of unease. The barge listed strongly to port, sending Jack over the railing where he dangled with his arms over his head as he tried to get purchase on the side of the ship.

“Hold still!” I shouted over the din of battle. Jack’s blue eyes landed on me. I aimed at the cuffs on his wrist then lifted my sights up just a bit to the links of chain. I popped off a shot. Missed. Took another and missed again. Jack began cursing fluently. My next shot was dead on. Jack fell about twenty feet to the ground, landing on his back. I took a step toward him then was hit by a blaster shot, one of a hundred bouncing around the hangar. It burned a hole through my shirt and flesh then continued searing through until it came out the other side. It felt like the seventh ring of Hell had just been pushed through my right shoulder.

“ _Ianto!_ ” Jack yelled as he staggered to his feet. I fell into a box of wooden crates, the pain excruciating but bloodless so that was a plus. Cauterization is a fine thing. The stink of burnt flesh tickled my gag reflex but there was no time to be sick. Jack dove around the tower of crates I’d fallen into, took Hart’s gun from my useless hand, and then patted my cheek lovingly. “Stop getting shot, okay? It worries me and does terrible things to my coat, which looks _almost_ as good on you as it does on me.”

“Right, sorry for worrying you,” I ground out as little wisps of smoke rose from my shoulder.

“You should be. Stay behind me.”

“Don’t get dead. Dragging you around with one arm will be difficult.”

“I’ll do my best.”

I followed him out into the fight, ducking and weaving to avoid being shot again. Jack shoved me into an alcove that held the power units for the hangar.

“Stay here and get those shuttles out on the tarmac online. Hart can’t transport so many with the manipulator. Once they’re fired up, head outside and get them open and ready for the women and children.”

“What about you?” I shouted. A bullet struck the wall a foot from Jack’s head. We both flinched and ducked. I wiggled out of his coat and handed it to him.

“I’m going after Oliver. Grab Geirr if you find him. We’ll take him with us and maybe we can fix him up somehow.” He shoved his arms into his stiff coat.

The protest was on my tongue. I kept it there. It would be petty to deny the man access to a medic simply because he’d once – or probably several dozen times – fucked Jack.

“I’ll find him. Make sure you get to the transports. I’ll come looking for you if you don’t and I’ll be cross,” I told him then flung open the circuit boxes and digital readout displays. Jack’s open-mouthed kiss was unexpected but quite welcome.

“Really Jack, can we grope the coffee boy _after_ the fight is over?”

Hart had the worst timing of any person it had ever been my misfortune to know. The bastard probably did it on purpose feck that he is.

“Women and children to the shuttles, find Geirr, do not die.” Jack pressed his brow to mine and then ran off with Hart. I watched them go. I was experiencing coat envy. I really needed a dapper coat. Maybe one that billowed in a rowdy wind…

It was times like this that I wished I had Tosh’s skills. Not that I couldn’t handle simple override protocols and a few programming directives. It was just her speed would have made things go so much faster. I’d have to work on that when I got home. For now, my one-handed skills would have to suffice. I typed in several commands and prayed they worked. When I left the alcove the security systems had been deactivated and the shuttles parked by the massive barge were online. Hopefully.

I stepped out and was nearly shot in the face. I threw my arms up to shield my head, cried out in shock and pain, and then glanced up.

“Sorry!” The lad holding the smoking blaster was no more than eight if that. He reminded me of my nephew. I motioned with my good arm at him. He nodded then ran off to tell the others. They came thundering down the metal steps. I got behind them, waving my arm to keep them moving as PC Andy and Jack had done while herding those stupid sheep. Christopher’s laughter rang in my ears. _No. No. Not now, son. Later we’ll visit. I have other children to save…_

“Hurry now! Go, go!” I shouted to the poor and unwanted. The ones that wouldn’t be missed. The ones who fall through society’s cracks. The ones who are preyed upon. “Out into the two shuttles under the big ship.”

I stopped at the hangar doors and turned. Jack and John were still exchanging shots with Oliver and three of his men. I desperately wanted to run back to help them but Jack had put me in charge of getting the others to safety.

“Mister! Come on, come with us!” A small girl yelled and grabbed my hand. She tugged hard. My shoulder screamed in protest. I looked down at her. The wind was whipping her dark hair. Her round face was grimy. She so resembled Mica, my niece. They were even of similar ages. My sight flew to the two shuttles resting under the massive barge these people had been brought to this miserable planet on. “Come fly us home, Mister!”

“Right.” I had no clue how to fly. Which was why it seemed important to get back and aid Jack and John. If they were killed we would be big, fat sitting ducks. I doubted Oliver would be gracious to the children and women who had fired on him. “Let’s go.”

We ran out into the storm, the rain blowing sideways with wicked speed. The little girl pushed through the weather, her head down, her fingers tight on my hand. The first shuttle was filled as was the second. Someone stepped out in front of me and the child, his face shadowed. I pulled the girl behind me. Geirr fell to his knees. He attempted to speak but could only make grunting sounds. I slid my left arm around him and got him up and into the second shuttle somehow.

The sickly Time Agent collapsed to his ass beside the loading door which had to remain open. My little escort tried shoving me toward the cockpit.

“I don’t know how to fly a shuttle. We have to wait for one of the captains to come.” I prayed it would be one of the dashing ones, preferably the one in the snappy RAF greatcoat.

 

**To be continued…**


	8. The Ones Who Fall Through - Chapter Eight - Peace Offering

**The Ones Who Fall Through**

**Chapter Eight**

**Peace Offering**

**Jack**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

“Isn’t this just like old times?” John asked between incoming rounds of blaster fire. We were in a bit of a tight spot. He and I had whittled down the odds a bit and now it was just two Time Agents versus one vengeful slaver who owned the futuristic equivalent of a Tommy gun. Oliver was shredding the crates we were hiding behind with the rapid-fire ray gun. John and I were hunkered down on our knees, wood splintering into bits a foot above our heads.

“If you mean that we’re pinned down by a mad man on an alien planet a few seconds from a gruesome and bloody death due to one of us fucking something up, then yes, this is _just_ like old times.”

“Oh, the memories warm my cockles.” John peeked around a weakened crate that now held mush that at one time was fruit of some sort, given the sweet smell and sticky juices that covered Hart and myself. He took a pot shot and missed. I glanced around our meager cover and fired off a round that pinged off the wall a mere four inches above Oliver’s wild red hair. His insane eyes found me and a smile overtook his face. Then the heavy ray gun was propped back on his hip and he fired. This time John and I went flat to the floor, hands over our heads. Chunks of fruit and juice filled the air, much of it falling on us. I rolled to my side, my cheek resting in a puddle of red fruit juice. John’s gaze met mine. “Right, since I have a much better and bigger gun, I’m going to draw his fire while you run for the shuttles.”

“First, my gun is _much_ bigger than yours.” John made a face. “Second, let me draw his fire. If I get hit so what? I’ll bounce back.”

“No, I’m smaller and lighter.” He reached over to pat my stomach, which was perfectly flat. “You’ve put on a few pounds while playing house with Eye Candy.”

“Splitting up is stupid,” I argued. Pointless, I know, but still I tried. “There are two shuttles. I can only fly one.”

“Looks like you’re in for a tough decision then. Oh, and Jack?” John got to one knee while Oliver’s gun cooled. I looked at him. “Torchwood is really an asinine name for a team.”

John stood up, called Oliver a snuffle fucking tart, and then ran as if Satan were on his heels. I cussed the man under my breath then jumped to my feet. The hangar doors beckoned. It grated to run out on the man but he’d be fine. He always was. I ran for the stairs, grabbed the railing, and swung my legs over. I dropped about ten feet, hit the ground, tucked, rolled, and came up feeling the wind and rain in my face.

“No you don’t, Captain Harkness!” Oliver roared and fired, his shots going wildly astray. His leg buckled. A bloom of blood began to darken his trousers mid-thigh. I skidded to a halt on the tarmac, sighted in the man who’s brother I’d killed, and squeezed off a shot. The flash of John’s shot caught my eye. The back of Oliver’s head splattered on the wall of the hangar.

For the longest moment, I felt terrible remorse for killing the man. No, not for killing Captain Oliver the slaver. Never for killing _that_ man. My remorse was for taking his brother from him which pushed him into coming after me. The pain of losing a sibling. Christ, it just never goes away. I ran for the shuttles, Hart catching up with me quickly after rifling about on Oliver’s corpse. The man never could resist picking the pockets of the dead.

There was no give-and-take between us. No bragging or boasting from John about who got the kill shot as was normal. The bulky slave ship now shielded us from some of the rain. “Take shuttle one. I’ll pilot number two. We’ll take them to the Carsus space station. That’s closest.”

Hart nodded and we parted ways. Ianto pulled me up into the shuttle and stood staring at me. He reached up to finger my bangs.

“Your hair is disheveled and sticky.”

“Still looks good though, right?”

“Looks incredible.” He exhaled as if the weight of Gidu had been taken off his shoulders. “Oliver dead?”

“Extremely dead.” The women and children cheered. Geirr rocked back and forth, his arms around his legs. It hurt to see him in such a state. Maybe it would serve him better to be left at the space station. Owen was a genius but Earth was primitive in many regards, medicine being one of them. “Everyone sit down. We’re leaving.”

More cheers from the freed slaves. Ianto moved among the women and kids, getting them seated on the floor when the six seats were filled with those who were too sick or beaten to sit elsewhere. Geirr refused to leave his spot by the loading door. I ran my hand over his cheek and then went to the cockpit. John was already in the air and waiting for me to come online.

“About time,” Hart said into my ear as after I slipped the ships communication device over my head. It was an old shuttle, stolen probably. They’d not be race horses by any means but we should be able to chug along at a fair clip. “Thought you were getting a quick lick and swallow from Sweet Cheeks.”

“If only,” I murmured then began flipping levers and pushing buttons. The shuttle slowly rose and I eased her out from under Oliver’s huge slave ship. As soon as I pushed the thrust lever up the old engines complained. I got the craft up and out of the hangar but it was a strain. Taking her up really made the engines groan and sputter. So, I eased off thrust and let her idle about five thousand feet above the top of the mountain. My sight raced over the readings and quickly found the problem. One of the ancient engines was about to give up the ghost. “John, any chance of hooking up with me?”

“Gladly, but I suspect your current whatever-he-is might have something to say about it.”

“I meant pulling us with your tractor beam,” I replied as Ianto wiggled into the cramped cockpit and sat down in the co-pilots seat, wincing at the shoulder wound.

“It will slow us down considerably. Pray these old rattletraps have enough life in the power cores or we’ll be floating in the dark,” John mumbled.

“Problem?” Ianto asked.

“We have a faulty engine. Go tell the passengers to hold onto something. The initial jolt of a tractor beam coupling is kind of severe at times.” I looked at Ianto.

“Right.” Off he went, asking the women and children to stay calm and grab hold of something. When asked why he replied that one of the engines was being disobedient and we were going to be towed by our fellow shuttle. The storm roared around us, jostling the small craft violently. It’d been some time since I navigated a craft of this size. Hell, it had been ages since I’d been in the pilot’s seat of _any_ kind of space craft. I had a warm fuzzy memory of that cramped little Chula warship that Rose Tyler and I had danced on.

“ _Close the door. Close the door!”_ Ianto yelled.

A jagged bolt of lightning leaped from raging pink cloud to raging pink cloud, blinding me temporarily. I punched the auto-pilot and freed myself from the chest harness to check out what was happening. Ianto was struggling with Geirr, the wide loading door stuck half open. Women and children were huddled into the far corner. Wind-driven rain blew into the shuttle, dousing Geirr and Ianto both.

“Who opened that door?” I shouted to be heard over the wind and rolling thunder.

“J-J-J Jack,” Geirr said, his voice sloppy and his words slurred. Ianto overpowered him easily, slamming his back to the softly-rounded wall. “Me…d-d-d-die…n-n-now.”

Ianto held the man to the wall, a forearm to his thick throat. My gaze and Geirr’s locked and I saw into his soul. It was a soul filled with suffering, shame, and regret. Like mine. Only Geirr could free himself from the guilt.

“Let him go.”

Ianto threw me a confused look over his shoulder. “What? No! He wants to throw himself out. That’s ridiculous. We can’t just let him take his own--”

“Let him go.” I said it more firmly. Geirr’s eyes closed slowly in thanks.

“Jack, we’re talking about letting him jump while there may be medical help that can--”

“Ianto, let him go.”

“This is madness. It’s assisted suicide!”

“Yes. Now let him go.” Ianto’s jaw worked madly for a moment and then he lowered his arm and stepped back. “Goodbye, Geirr.”

Geirr smiled the best he could, gave the children and women weeping in the corner a pained look, and then tumbled backward out of the shuttle. Ianto slapped the panel that controlled the door. I left him with his hand on the controls of the loading door and returned to the cockpit. Using my sleeves, I dried my face, cleared my throat, and gave the craft a little more gas. The engines whined. There was nothing more they could give us. Number one engine faltered and went offline.

“Jack, did you lose a passenger?” John’s subdued voice appeared as soon as I placed the headset back on my head.

“Geirr.”

“Damn it.” John said. “I’m going to engage the tractor beam.”

Ianto fell into the seat beside me, his face tight. The ship jumped strongly. A woman shrieked and a child whimpered.

“Why?” Ianto asked as I gave control of the ship to Hart. I leaned back, let my head rest on the bolster, and looked to my co-pilot. He seemed mesmerized by the swirling clouds. “Why did you let him take his own life?” Ianto turned his head toward me. “You told me to find him and then you give him permission to kill himself. I’m really having trouble understanding what just happened.”

“Helping us save them…” I waved a filthy hand at passengers, “… was as close as he was ever going to get to purging some of his guilt about Destiny’s moon. When we talk of Captain Geirr Holmberg it will be to relay how he died saving women and children from a life of slavery. He wanted to die a hero. I understand that all too well.”

Ianto continued to study me, the anger falling from his face. He slowly breathed out through his nose. “The difference is that his heroism is false while yours is real.”

“Christ, Ianto, you _really_ need to take off those rose-colored glasses of yours from time to time.”

We rode side-by-side in reverse for some time, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

“I once read that Ann Landers said 'Rose-colored glasses aren’t made in bifocals because no one wants to read the small print of their dreams',” Ianto finally said.

That made me smile. “Are you saying you avoid the small print when it comes to me?”

He kicked his grimy hiking boots up onto the useless shuttle dash. “Perhaps. Maybe it’s not so much avoiding the small print of my dreams but just squinting a bit. Or a lot from time to time.”

“Ah.” I kicked back as well, folding my arms over my chest, boots resting on the dash as Ianto’s were. “And what do you do when you find a truly heinous addendum in the fine print?”

“I pull out my magnifying glass and read that one rider closely. Then I remind myself that I’m not exactly without my fair share of shameful appendixes and postscripts.” He let his head loll over so that he could look at me. “You do the same, I’m sure.”

I did from time to time but I was positive he squinted _way_ more than I ever would. “Mm, so you’re saying that we’re a couple of blind men when it comes to our faults and foibles. Is that the right way to run a normal relationship?”

“Probably not but we’re not normal men in a normal relationship.”

There was no way to argue that statement.

“What is a normal man anyway?” I asked over the hum of the tractor beam. “Or a normal relationship for that matter?”

“I’d say take us and whatever was at the opposite end of the relationship spectrum would be what most would consider normal.” He chuckled softly. Some of the tension flowed away.

“Yeah, I agree. God, I need a loofah and a lay.”

“I think I can supply both of those once we get home.”

I was hoping that would be his answer.

 

**To be concluded…**


	9. The One Who Fall Through - Chapter Nine - What He Needs

**The Ones Who Fall Through**

**Chapter Nine**

**What He Needs**

**Ianto**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

            “Be it ever so humble...” I said when we materialized inside my flat. The time travel now as easy for me as walking up stairs. It really did just take some getting used to.

            “I suppose humble fits,” Hart muttered as the glowing door of rift energy hummed and undulated right behind him. “I’d love to stay but I have a dinner date with a lovely young woman.”

            “Pity. No, really, we’re brokenhearted.” Jack peeled his ruined coat off as he spoke. “Sorry to have to see you go.”

            John smirked slightly. “Always pretending that you’re not sad to see me leave. Oh. Before I forget. Here.” He fished around inside his garish red jacket then withdrew a cloth sack and tossed it underhanded to Jack. “Your freedom from this mundane planet and your equally mundane lover.”

            Jack appeared to be a bit skeptical. He flung the sack to the coffee table then waved at Hart to get moving. I crossed my arms over my chest, eager to see the man leave myself. I’d had more than my share of fun with the good captain. I’d been close to beating him to death with a shoe by the time we’d delivered the women and children to the nearest space station where I’d had my wound tended to. Amazing how well they can heal blaster shots in the future. There wouldn’t even be a scar. Same for the nano-bot extraction sites on our palms.

            “You’re welcome. And I _will_ keep looking for Gray. Feel free to join me sometime if you can peel yourself away from the little woman that is.”

            Ugh. Yes, death by shoe whipping. Hart turned and stepped into the pulsing vortex. It snapped and throbbed and then disappeared. Jack threw his coat to the floor behind the front door.

            “Another one bites the dust,” he sighed, gave me a look, and then called Owen to inform him that we were back safely and that the rift spike was us returning. I padded into the bedroom and began stripping. Once I was naked, I gathered the heap of unusable clothing and walked out to dump them on top of Jack’s coat. He was still talking with Owen. His eyebrows jumped up his brow when he saw my nudity. “Today? No, I don’t think you’ll see us today.” Jack’s gaze lingered on me. “Space lag. Uh-huh. I’ll explain tomorrow. Call if any alien crafts are seen anywhere near 10 Downing Street.” Jack tossed his mobile to the sofa. “So, I just called us in sick again. This is getting to be a habit.”

            “We can go in if you’d rather.” I walked past him. “I’m getting a shower before I do anything. I’ve got pink goo in places no man should have pink goo.”

            “No, I think we need the rest of the day to recharge from all that space hopping. Also, you’ve had goo there before, although it wasn’t pink.” He followed behind me peeling off his clothing as we went. I knew he was undressing because his grimy undershirt flew past my head to land in front of me. “Once it was flavored. Mmm, grape Ianto. We need to buy more of that.”

            By the time we got into the bath he was nude, hard, and particularly grabby. I was too filthy to engage in anything remotely sexual until I was clean so the shower was quick and to the point, Jack rushing us through the scrubbing. Once the soap and shampoo were rinsed off he was like a man starved. Hands everywhere, mouth hungry. We tussled around in the shower groping and rubbing until the water went cold.

            “Bed, come on,” he purred beside my ear, his fingers roaming over my wet back and ribs. Hands to his head I lapped at his mouth while trying to exit the shower. It wasn’t particularly graceful, but I kept his mouth sealed to mine as we bounced off the wall then the doorframe in our quest to leave the bathroom. The bed, still tumbled and rumpled from last night, awaited. Jack hit it first and I followed, dropping down over him as the mattress and coverings billowed out around us.

            Pressing myself to him, I captured his mouth again, sucking on his tongue. He gyrated his hips underneath me, pushing his cock over mine. The contact made us both inhale sharply though our noses.

            “Ianto,” he huffed a moment later. I groaned and continued suckling on a small spot right above his nipple. I wanted to leave a mark on him that I could see over the next few days. I needed him to look down and see it and know that he was mine. “Ianto, ouch, okay, stop. Look at me.”

            I lifted my head. Jack slid his right leg over my back, his hands rested on my forearms. Sometimes it hit me like a brick between the eyes how beautiful he was. I mean, sure, I know the man is gorgeous, but moments like this… when he’s hot with passion and clawing at me for release…it really sinks in that this man is with _me_ , in _my_ bed, looking to _me_ for love and pleasure. Me. Ianto Jones. Having this man in love with me made me feel like a kid on Christmas morn.

            “I love you.” It tumbled out. His sultry eyes glowed a little hotter. He reached up to touch my face. “It’s quite nice to be able to say that now.”

            “It is,” he agreed with a gentle smile. “Make love to me, Ianto.” Balanced above him, his leg between mine, I stared at him trying to decipher what he meant. The cocksure Jack exterior faltered just a bit as I studied him. “If you want…”

            “Are you asking me to…”

            “Yes, make love to me…unless that’s not appealing to you which is totally fine. I just, well…there aren’t many men that I’m willing to bottom for…who I trust enough.” His fingers slipped into my hair. “Feeling you inside me, I really need that right now but I won’t push you to do something that you--”

            “No, I’d love to. I just, well, I just never thought…”

            “For you? Yes.” He held onto the back of my skull with his right hand and guided my mouth to his. I’d never had this needy Jack in my bed before. I kissed him softly but he wanted none of that. His tongue delved into my mouth as he arched up from the bed, his prick gouging into my hip. “So, yes you will?”

            “Yes, just let me get the lube.” I felt stupid and uncoordinated. Jack lay under me, his big body throwing out incredible heat, his hips pumping up and down, scrubbing his cock against my hip bone or my stomach or my prick. Lust raced through me as I worked the clear gel between and over my fingers. Jack spread his legs, guided my hand down between his thighs, and then shuddered violently when I pressed two slick fingers into him. The ache in my balls grew rapidly as I knelt between his powerful legs fingering him. He was so…so…words don’t begin to describe the erotic beauty of Jack Harkness begging you to enter him.

            “Enough, damn it, Ianto, I need to feel you in me,” he pleaded.

            “I – uh – yes, okay.” I sounded like a dolt. Jack chuckled amid the gruff groans of need.

            “You’ll be fine. Here.” He pressed the lube into my chest. “Love me, Ianto.”

            “I already do,” I replied while shakily squeezing out a line of clear slick along my prick.

            “Well then love me a bit deeper,” Jack panted, his hands going over his head to grip the headboard. The sight of that wrist strap on his arm fascinated me as I smeared lube over my cock. He began to grow impatient and hooked his leg around me, tugging me closer. “Ianto…”

            “Yes, yes.” I took his left leg in hand and pressed it to his chest. Jack slipped his right leg over my shoulder. “Don’t let me hurt you.”

            “You never could,” he said, his voice low and smoky. He hissed when I breached him. I paused and glanced up from where we were now joined. “I’m fine. Give me more, Ianto.”

            So, I did. I pressed in deeper and deeper, stopping when he would groan or tremble. I let my eyes drift shut just for a moment.

            “So much better than I ever imagined,” I confessed, my eyes coming open to find him biting down on his lower lip as he tightened around me internally.

            “You fantasized about fucking me?” Jack asked. I nodded then pulled out just a bit. His voice cracked when I thrust into him. “Oh Christ! Faster. Ianto, faster. I’m fine I just need…yes, that is just right.”

            It _was_ just right. More than that, it was a complete and utter shift in the dynamics of what had been our relationship. Jack on the bottom was more than just a sexual thing. It spoke of his desire to give me access to the parts of him that he held from mostly everyone else. It said that he trusted me fully and loved me deeply. At least, that was what I took from this unique and incredible experience. Did I think it would happen regularly? No. Jack was feeling vulnerable I suspected. Losing Geirr perhaps or having his past dredged up and thrown into his face yet again. Seeing Hart. Knowing that his brother was still lost to him. He needed something from me. Something that was more than thrust and grunt.

            Understanding that this was a rare gift from the man, I did my best to love him as well as I could. Slow, deep strokes, soft caresses, whispered words of affection, love…those I gave to him until I collapsed over him, my body spent, his convulsing as he rode the waves of his orgasm.

            “God, oh God,” I panted into his shoulder, his fingers biting painfully into my ass to keep me deep inside him.

            “Roll your hips…Ah! Damn it!” Jack’s back bowed upward. I nipped at his neck, enjoying how he trembled under me. “No, no, don’t pull out. Stay with me, Ianto.” I let my elbows buckle so that I pressed into him, chest to chest, legs knotted, my nose resting against his neck. “Yes, good, good.” He began stroking my damp hair. “Stay with me.”

            He kept me tight to him despite how heavy I was and how badly we needed to clean up. His fingers moved over my hair as our breathing slowed.

            “Jack,” I whispered as I began to slip out.

            He kissed the side of my head. “I know,” he groggily replied. He let go of me. I slid out of him and sat on the edge of the bed to get my bearings. Jack’s fingertips grazed my lower back. I glanced back at him spread out in our bed. His hair fell over his brow perfectly.

            “Are you okay?”

            He nodded and flashed me a smile. “I’m very much okay. Now go tidy up.”

            Assuming he was telling me the truth, I pushed up from the bed and went to clean up. His eyes flickered open when I sat down next to him, soapy washcloth in hand. There was a fast moment when our gazes met and held, but it was lost as soon as I placed the cloth to his stomach.

            “This is odd,” he said after I’d gotten the semen washed from his abdomen and was working on washing between his legs. “Nice, but odd.”

            “I like to take care of my lover as well,” I informed him. He wanted to say something but he never did. Instead he motioned for me to lay down with him. I tossed the washcloth into the hamper then curled up beside him, my arm laying on his warm stomach.

            “Stay with me, Ianto.”

             “I’ve no plans to go anywhere,” I told him.

             “Right, yes, good. Good.”

             I dropped off quickly, even though I fought falling asleep. When I woke up the sun had shifted downward a good bit. I rolled around the empty bed, found my stopwatch, and popped it open. It was ten minutes after five. I’d slept for quite a long time. Sex and sleep had done wonders for me. I felt rested and serene.

             After kicking off the covers and pulling on a pair of jeans I went in search of Jack, thinking I’d find him in the kitchen making food. My stomach grumbled as I shuffled into the living room. Jack was sitting on the sofa. He looked over his shoulder at me. I walked up behind him, bent down, and rubbed my cheek against his hair. I saw that he’d taken the time to pull on a pair of trousers. He reached up to pat my face. I felt so loved and so warm inside. I glanced to the table. On it lay two wrist straps. A dismantled one and an intact one. The one that had its bits and bobs scattered around it must belong to…

             “Geirr’s,” he supplied as if he were reading my mind. “I can take the parts from his and fix mine. That’s what was in the sack Hart gave me. My freedom from this planet.”

              So much for all the love and warmth. Fear turned those feelings into cold globs. I stood up, looked around my flat, then walked over to the kitchen doorway and leaned on the wall. Jack’s blue eyes followed me closely.

             “Are you going to fix yours and go then?” I hoped that didn’t sound as pathetic to him as it did to me.

             He slowly rose from the couch. “No, I don’t think so.”

             “Oh? And why is that?” _Yes, fold your arms over your chest for that ‘Look How Many Shits I Do Not Give’ look, Ianto_. Is it working? _I doubt it._

             “I like being stuck here with you.” He leaned on the wall next to me. We were just two cool blokes not talking about how scared we were of losing each other.

             “But you’re not stuck here now,” I pointed out.

             “No, I’m _choosing_ to stay here with you. I think I’ll just keep Geirr’s in the safe at the Hub. This way if we need to teleport somewhere in an emergency, we can.”

             “That’s sensible.”

             “I thought so.”

             I glanced over at him. He looked up from his bare feet. I pounced on him, taking his head between my hands and kissing him with every bit of love and fear inside me. He returned the kiss with equal amounts of passion and anxiety. What a fucked-up, wildly-in-love, terrified-of-what-came-next pair we were…

 

 

**The End**

**Next up we’re going to have another “Day in the Life” one-shot. After that will be “The Bridge” which will be a Ianto solo.**

**Yours in fiction—**

**Feral**

 


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